The deserts' shadow
by Lady Eris Discordia
Summary: Ruling Egypt, Pharaoh Atem has to take great care of his mind being stolen by the Shadows. But what will happen when his world collides with that of the shadow of the desert?
1. Chapter 1

The deserts' shadow – Part 1

**The Theft**

Atem's POV

_'The sun has just set and the world is still filled with its warmth. But it will soon give way to the relentless cold of the Egyptian night. I am so tired. The day was filled with endless work – governing, learning spells, training and trying to keep order in the court. Mana is a handful...I am sure the high priest will not have much more patience with her. She gets on his nerves...then again...who doesn't? *chuckle*_

_What a day! And tomorrow it starts all over again. Maybe I should go for a walk in the city to see how the people are getting along. *Sigh* But first; I think I shall have a bath.'_

Atem walks through the second door in his room that leads to the bath-chamber with the notion to conjure a heating spell so that he may thaw-out the water, only to find that someone in the palace has already done so and in addition, tossed in some rose petals and scented oils. He smiles at himself and makes a mental note to thank Isis. Her magic is a great help. She must have used her Millennium Necklace to foresee that his nerves would be shot today. He starts to take off his jewellery and walks to the cabinet in his room to put it down. The Millennium Puzzle however, remains firmly around his neck. He _cannot_ afford to let the pendant land in the wrong hands for the end of Egypt – a task easily accomplishable with the power of the Puzzle - would be much too heavy a burden for him to carry...not to mention what might happen to the rest of the world...He really hated dwelling on the subject. In his short life, the young King has seen enough bloodshed, destruction and dismay to fill a thousand scrolls...'_The horrors I have witnessed...the inhumanity of it all...I cannot understand...cannot forgive...cannot forget...' _

Atem suddenly flinches as one of the earrings he was taking off, pinches his ear. This makes him shake his head in amused disbelief. One might think that after so many years of wearing the jewels, he would either be used to the misfortune of hurting himself when taking it off (as this happens quite often) or be able to avoid it all-together. But for some reason, every time he does not concentrate - or his thoughts wonder off to faraway places - when ridding himself of the heavy gold, he ends up bleeding. Even the armbands seem to put up a fight today. The last piece he takes off, is a strange looking amulet. It consists of an ankh infused with various precious stones and gold and silver charms on either side of the chain – they were decorated with tiny patterns (the gold being decorated with silver and the silver with gold) and great attention was paid to detail. A spidery desert rose was draped in brass across the ankh and there were strange traces of black symbols dotted all over the petals. In a way, especially from a distance, it came across as quite plain; any passer-by would not give it a second glance as it was not at all flamboyant. But in truth it was the most beautiful piece of craftsmanship in all of Egypt...as well as an item with great magical power. It was also, along with the puzzle, his most prised treasure. His father had given it to his mother as a wedding gift and it is the only possession he owns that belonged to her. He furrows his brows in dissatisfaction at the amulet. Other than that, he does not know much about it. His father had only spoken to him about its power once and made it clear that it was _not_ to be toyed with...although he never got around to telling his son exactly what it could _do_...or how to _use_ it... After staring at the trinket for a moment longer, he puts it down to go soak his sorrows away.

At the bath, Atem undresses and slowly wades into the water, allowing the warmth to sooth his acing mussels. He slides down the smooth marble steps of the inlaid pool and closes his eyes. After a while of trying to clear the events of the day from his weary mind, he sits up slowly and reaches for a glass bottle containing washing oils on the floor near the water's bounds. His extravagant hair, despite being weighed down by the heavy water, remains in its strange seven black spikes framed by a brilliant magenta edge. His golden-blond bangs however, slightly stick to his face from the steam and vapours in the room. He pours some of the oil into his hand and vigorously rub down his tan body to remove the sweat and dirt that tends to inhabit one's skin after a long day of training. When the King was once again unsoiled, he closed his eyes and slid back down, breathing deeply, to unwind a little longer.

By the time he feels rested, the cold of the night has already sneaked into the palace like a shadow. He gets out of the now almost cold water and walks to a cabinet against the wall. Drops of water race down his slim muscular frame – tickling him as far as they go – and leave a spotted trail on the marble floor. He picks up a white linen cloth from the dresser and dries himself off while shaking his head to expel the remaining water from his hair. Once dry, he spreads the cloth open over the cabinet to dry and puts on his white and blue shendyt.

_'Just as I walk through the door, I look up into a pair of big lilac eyes. The face of Marik Ishtar. Shock is evident in his features, but a smirk quickly creeps over his face. In his hand, he is holding my mother's amulet. With a flash he runs to the balcony and jumps. I run after him only to get entangled in the curtains by the window - thrown up by the wind. When I finally manage to rip them down and free myself, I see him riding off into the night on a sandy horse. Without thinking, I put my hand on the railing and swing my legs over the balustrade to jump down the balcony and land rolling across the floor. I swiftly rise to my feet – ignoring the burn in my ankle - and run to my white stallion to set out after Ishtar._

_He leads me deep into the desert...but I will not let him have the amulet. I will not give him the pleasure of knowing he could best my guards, break into my home and steal from me. And who knows what he could do with its magic? After hours of harsh riding I finally catch up to him on an enormous dune. I can feel the sweat on my horse's pelt against my legs as I continue to tear bareback after the boy. He quickly glances back to see me not far behind him when suddenly his horse misplaces a foot on the loose sand and trips. _

_Marik is flung from his mount and roles across the sand coming to a stop face down. He moans slightly but gets up and starts to run. I lead my horse up to him and jump out of the saddle on top of him. Our bodies collide with force and topple over the highest point on the mountain-like dune and it is then that I realise _exactly_ what is on the other side..._

_...a sheer drop of certain death... _

_Marik and I tumble down the stony slope - rocks are scraping flesh from my body and as I roll over a sharp rock I hear a loud snap which is immediately followed by a searing pain in my left arm. I finally reach the bottom of the rock-strewn dune, coming to a stop face down on the hard sand, with the puzzle digging into my chest, and slowly open my eyes to search for Ishtar. He is sprawled on the sand on his back, his face twisted in pain. I get up slowly. Painfully. My body is bruised, scraped and my arm is broken. I scan the surrounding area noticing that we are in some sort of broad crevice...I have no idea where my horse is...he won't survive if he can't find his way back...neither will I for that matter. I have absolutely no idea where we are...nothing about the place looks remotely familiar. I stare up at the full moon and mentally scold myself for acting so impulsively...how very un-pharaoh like. Suddenly I hear a moan coming from Ishtar's direction and snap my head his way abruptly remembering the reason I was in this mess in the first place._

_I start walking in his direction and in the distance; I see the silhouette of a rocky outcrop against the crevice wall. I lower my eyes to Marik and unexpectedly hear a strange whistling sound. I look up and before I can fully comprehend what the source of the sound is, I am starring into the tip of an arrow. _

_My heart involuntary starts beating dangerously fast. There is nothing I can do...there is no way that I can react fast enough to evade it...I just close my eyes and wait for the tip to pierce my skull..._

_The impact never came. I know I have not died and gone to the afterlife because my body is still in immense pain...and...the afterlife could not be filled with such pain...could it?_

_I slowly and disbelievingly open my eyes and nearly die of shock. The tip of the arrow is a mere hear-breadth from the skin between my eyes. I follow the arrow down the end and see that there is a hand wearing a black fingerless-glove attached to it. Attached to the hand was an arm and attached to the arm was a cloaked figure. A hooded man wearing a dark cape that fell to the ground, is standing with his back towards me on my left. He has caught the arrow in mid air, saving my life. _

_Shock overcomes me and I slide down to sit on the sand, willing my heart to calm down. I stare at the man in front of me. He has lowered his arm, still holding the arrow. He is just standing there...staring at the outcrop in the distance...I tear my eyes away from him to also look at the outcrop and open my mouth to thank him, but as soon as I do, I feel myself being slung from the ground. With a powerful grip he pulls me by the arm and starts to run. I was just about to ask what the hell he was doing when I heard the familiar whistling sound in the distance. The man swings me behind a rock just as an arrow hits the ground on the spot where we were moments before, causing sand to shoot up in my face. My back violently hits the rough rock and my broken arm shifts painfully causing me to cringe in pain. The man, who is on his haunches at my side, takes note of this and looks in my direction examining my arm. His cloak completely covers his face...I cannot see any of his features. Before I could say anything, he rips a strip of cloth from his cloak and swiftly and skilfully wraps up my arm in a sling – tightly against my body. He then returns his attention to the whistling arrows now pelting down on us as if there is now tomorrow. _

_I look at him and notice he has swung his cloak back to reveal a loose fitted belt around his waist. In the belt are numerous shuriken. Strange...he must not be an Egyptian...that is foreign weaponry. At closer study, I see he has a sheath on his back held there by a leather strap that runs across his chest and shoulder. His clothes are all black and loose fitted. He is not wearing a shendyt but strange looking pants. Who in the name of Ra is this man? And where on earth did he come from? _

_This is also the moment that I realise that in my impulsive haste; I have neglected to arm myself with a weapon of any kind...I have nothing with which to defend myself...I am totally, completely and utterly defenceless... _

_After a moments' pause, the man summarily grabs twelve of the shuriken, six in each hand, and while on his haunches, lowers his body to the ground, extending his arms straight back and prepares to leap over the rock into the swarm of arrows. _

_He must be senile! He is going to get himself killed! I must stop him! He jumps just as I sway towards him to hold him back. As he does so, I half run from behind the rock, narrowly avoiding the onslaught of arrows, to see him dexterously twisting his body two and fro in the air avoiding the instruments of death with ease. In the peak of his jump, he suddenly faces his body forward and slings the shuriken from his hands into the dead darkness towards the outcrop. He lightly lands on his haunches with his hand in-between his legs for balance and his one leg stretched out to the side...like a cat... _

_Suddenly the arrows stop._

_After the slightest moment, twelve dull thuds can be heard echoing through the night...bodies falling from their posts in the crevice walls._

_How...? How is this possible? How could he see them? It is pitch black! How did he manage to hit them with pinpoint accuracy from this distance? It just isn't possible..._

_Suddenly, a voice laughs menacingly into the night._

_My blood runs cold and drains from my face. Now is NOT the time to be caught unarmed because I know exactly who THAT voice belongs to..._

_Bakura...'_


	2. Chapter 2

The deserts' shadow – Part 2

**The Confrontation**

Recap (Atems' POV): '_Suddenly, a voice laughs menacingly into the night._

_My blood runs cold and drains from my face. Now is NOT the time to be caught unarmed because I know exactly who THAT voice belongs to..._

_Bakura...'_

_'The man gets up and stares into the distance at the outcrop once more. I am suddenly shocked out of my reverie by Ishtar who has woken up and groans in pain as he slowly sits up in dazed confusion. He looks just as bad as I feel. At first, he does not notice the strange hooded man standing just a few feet away from him...neither does he seem to remember what had happened and how he had gotten here...or even where 'here' is for that matter. _

_Slowly but surely, remembrance creeps into his lilac orbs. He then turns his head and is startled by the stranger in front of him. He bolts upright reaching for his sword and sinks into a fighting position._

_The man, on the other hand, pays him no mind, apparently not finding him a threat. Ishtar's eyes shift, uncomprehending the man's calm demeanour at such close range to a drawn sword, from the stranger...to me...back to the stranger...and once again to me.'_

Suddenly Bakura's voice booms into the otherwise silent darkness.

"You have done very well Marik. You got him here in record time. And I trust you brought the amulet with you?"

_'A smirk plays over Ishtar's face and his body visibly relaxes upon hearing his brother in arms' voice. He looks over his shoulder but keeps his hand firmly on his sword's hilt just in case the cloaked man decides to suddenly view him as a mark. He answers Bakura with a voice full of glee.' _

"But of course. Did you expect anything less of me? And of course I have the - ..."

_'Ishtar's eyes widen as he realises he has dropped my mother's amulet somewhere in the desert sand...no...Then it is lost to me as well! NO!'_

Bakura puts two and two together and scolds his companion for being so careless.

"You fool! We need the amulet to awaken -...No matter. At least you managed to lead him to us."

_'This was a trap? How could I be so oblivious?! I continue to stare at Marik who is slowly walking towards Bakura and an army of a few hundred men, still keeping an eye on the hooded man. Both men, and legion, come to a stop a few yards away from us and Bakura continues in an icy voice, now looking at the stranger.'_

"Well, well, well. What have we here? *Tilts head with curious look* You sir, are no ordinary warrior. No man I have ever come across could pull off a move like that. You killed off twelve of my men in the pitch black night...with seeming ease I might add, if I look at your calm air. And from such a distance? I do think a bit of sorcery was involved here. No ordinary man can do what you have just done.

*Chuckles evilly* You know, I am the Thief King Bakura. The most feared man in all of Egypt. You have drawn of my blood, so to speak, and I simply cannot ignore that. However. All I seek is the man behind you. Hand him over, and I shall turn a blind eye to our little...misshape. Give him to me, and I will allow you to be on your way...unharmed."

_'I stare at the man who has just saved my life. Bakura is in NO way a man to be taken lightly. The stranger has skill, yes, buy surely not enough to face the Thief Kings' whole cohort by himself. And then there is Marik AND Bakura to take into consideration. Both are revered swordsmen and fighters...even if it sickens me to admit it...Even I would have great difficulty beating one of them in a fight...let alone both..._

_And since I am unarmed..._

_I cannot expect this man to sacrifice his life...he doesn't even know who I am damn-it! Nevertheless, even if he did...this battle is a futile one...at least now one of us can walk away unharmed...'_

The man continues to stand motionless a few feet diagonally opposite to Atem – staring at Bakura and Marik from underneath his ebony hood and carefully eyeing the wrestles pack of murderous thugs. Bakura takes this as a sign of defeat and with a psychotic smile on his face; advances towards the pharaoh...

He barely gave more than a step when the man abruptly steps in front of Atem and sinks down into a defensive position.

_'Bakura immediately stops and his body tenses ever so slightly. If I had not been watching him intently, I might not even have noticed it at all. Apparently he has been wrong about the man yielding to his request...either that or my new 'friend' doesn't trust that Bakura will let him go..._

_I suddenly realise what it would mean if the figure decides to stand his ground and my heart starts to race once more. I snap my head in his direction and scrutinise his back. Would he put his life on the line for someone he does not even know?_

_Bakura glares at the man waiting for him to make the next move. The wind has wiped up, apparently indulging its curiosity and teasingly nips at us, making our clothes sway in silent reaction._

_The stranger slowly straightens up but remains in front of me. He does not look at me but instead starts to walk towards my enemies. Could he be thinking of joining them instead?! _

_It seems Bakura and Marik are not too sure about what his intensions are either and place their hands on theirs swords' hilts...ready for anything... About halfway between me and the murderous throng, he stops...as if considering the odds of staying with me to die; or handing me over to live..._

_The man then puts out his right leg and crosses it over his left. He beguilingly places his foot in the sand and sways it to the right drawing a line. He then slowly starts to tread backwards and stops a few feet in front of me once more, suspending his arms down his sides with confidence...now what?'_

Marik is the first to speak as he looks sideways towards his acquaintance with both curiosity and uncertainty.

"What is THAT supposed to mean?"

Bakura stares at the man absorbedly for a moment and his psychotic smile returns once more. He answers Ishtar with a trace of exhilaration in his voice...and bloodlust in his eyes...

"It means my dear friend; that our 'hold-up' here, is either very brave or very stupid. He also seems to be somewhat disinclined to kill. That line is both a challenge and a threat *chuckles evilly*

It means that anyone who crosses it; will die."


	3. Chapter 3

The deserts' shadow – Part 3

**The Clash of Warriors**

Recap (Atems' POV): 'Bakura stares at the man absorbedly for a moment and his psychotic smile returns once more. He answers Ishtar with a trace of exhilaration in his voice...and bloodlust in his eyes...'

"It means my dear friend; that our 'hold-up' here, is either very brave or very stupid. He also seems to be somewhat disinclined to kill. That line is both a challenge and a threat *chuckles evilly*

It means that anyone who crosses it; will die."

The pack of men, who have been quite silent up until now, starts murmuring and a few laughs escapes the mass. They are clearly very dubious of the lone warriors' skill and ability to beat Egypt's most notorious horde of homicidal thieves. They have been plundering tombs and temples for years cutting down any man that stands in their way. They do not doubt their ability to fight and the idea of one man standing his ground at the sight of them is...well...sad really.

Marik smiles audaciously. He has obviously been thinking the same thing upon hearing his comrades' chuckle and yells at the hooded figure with an assured voice.

"We accept your challenge warrior! Men; why don't you go on and have some fun. Just leave the pharaoh untouched. We need him..."

_'I watch as the men eagerly dash forward towards the cloaked man in front of me. Bloodlust very patent in their eyes..._

_The man reaches over his shoulder with his right hand and with his left; he reaches backwards past his side and grabs both ends of the sheath on his back concurrently. It is only now that I notice that the sheath is in actuality a scabbard _**(****Sheath for sword, knife, dagger or bayonet)**_ and the ends thereof are in point of fact sword hilts. With a slicing sound of metal, he leisurely pulls out two brilliant swords. They are identical. The crossgaurd _**(****Part of the hilt of a sword which runs perpendicular to the blade, which the tang [Part of the sword blade that protrudes into the hilt that the grip is secured to] of the sword passes through into the hilt)**_ is broad, long and smooth and curves slightly down towards the blade. Perched upon it, is a silver dragon – its wings stretched out to form the knucklegaurd _**(****Portion of the hilt that protected the knuckles)**,_each plate in the wings ending in an upwards curving and downwards curling spike. _

_The effect to best describe it with would be as when a person places the tips of their fingers on top of each other, cupping the palms - with the thumbs pointing towards the chest. The thumbs then represent the dragon and the rest of the fingers the wings that spans around the hand. _

_The swords' pommel _**(****The disc or metal knob on the end of a sword hilt which fastens to the tongue of the blade. It has two purposes: holding all of the parts of the foil in place, and serving as a counterweight to the blade, thus making the foil a balanced weapon) **_is a silver dragons' claw with a black rounded gemstone in its grasp. The blades are long and slender; slightly curving upwards at the end._

_Truly magnificent..._

_The figure stands before me facing the oncoming threat with his arms draped at his sides – swords extended slightly sideways– waiting for the first victim to cross the line in the sand. The moon's light is dripping from the razor-sharp blades like blood. The wind playfully caresses the mortals in its wake like a fiend leading his prey into false defence. The horde draws ever nearer and my heartbeat is steadily rising...Will we die here?..._

_Then it happens. The first of the thugs steps over the line rushing towards the cloaked man. His feet leaves deep imprints in the sand and the moon illuminates the grains that soar up from each step he takes. He takes hold of his sword with both hands and brings the weapon inward to his side to increase the intensity of the strike. His face is crumpled up with concentration. He throws his body forward with power - plunging the sword lethally into his opponent's chest. _

_He smiles. Victory in his eyes goes accompanied with disappointment at the briefness of the fight. I think my heart just stopped..._

_The brute has barely come to a standstill from his sudden thrust of movement when the man impaled on his sword; dissolves..._

_What sorcery is this?!_

_The reflection of victory in the man's eyes is replaced with utter confusion and disbelief when he is suddenly slammed to the ground as my 'friend' lands upon his back plunging his sword into the villain..._

_He has bound into the air at the exact moment the thugs' sword touched him with such speed, it left a false image of himself getting skewered...Oh My RA..._

_None of the other men seems to comprehend what has just happened and keeps on vaulting towards the man in ebony. He moves effortlessly through them with extraordinary agility and limberness; slashing the life from men as he passes by...my eyes can barely follow him...he seems to disappear every now and again..._

_Bodies are falling everywhere – most of them without an apparent cause because the hooded man is nowhere in sight...blood is pooling on the earth staining the floor with lost existence. The men have started to retreat now...their laughter from a few moments ago replaced by screams of terror and revulsion. They cower behind Bakura and some even set out into the desert in a desperate attempt to save themselves. _

_Out of nowhere, the man is standing in front of me once more in the same position he started out in – with his back towards me, his arms draped at his sides and his swords extended slightly sideways...the only difference now; is that instead of moonlight, it really is blood dripping from his blades...'_

Bakura glares at the man with a mixed look of incredulity and pleasure and addresses him with the slightest hint of mystification in his voice.

"Well, well, _well_...What a show! You killed off more than half of my army and you are not even out of breath? I will acknowledge this stranger; I very much underestimated your skill and aptitude – a mistake I will _not_ make again.

I must admit I am _quite_ displeased with you for obliterating my army. It took a fair amount of time to build up you know. On the other hand, I am rather thrilled with finally encountering someone that will be challenging to defeat! *Smiles psychotically* Let's see just how good you really are!"

With that he lunges at the man hurling his sword at his victim's head with extreme force and power. The man swings both his swords in front of his face in a 'V' shape and blocks the blade as it comes crashing down. Both men are leaning into their weapons trying to force the opponent back. They simultaneously give one last forceful push but realise that they are equally matched. They skid backward in the sand and Bakura lunges towards the man, assailing him again, but the figure soars into the air and steps on Bakura's sword with his one foot causing it to sink tip first into the sand. With the other foot he steps on the attacker's back in an attempt to leap over him but the Thief, anticipating the man's move, grabs his leg and forcefully slams him into a nearby rock. He gets up rapidly - just in time to block another strike.

The assault continues as the man manages to doge every feverous slash that comes his way...until he slips on a loose stone and momentarily loses his balance...


	4. Chapter 4

The deserts' shadow – Part 4

**The Realization**

Recap (Atems' POV): Bakura lunges towards the man, assailing him again, but the figure soars into the air and steps on Bakura's sword with his one foot causing it to sink tip first into the sand. With the other foot he steps on the attacker's back in an attempt to leap over him but the Thief, anticipating the man's move, grabs his leg and forcefully slams him into a nearby rock. He gets up rapidly - just in time to block another strike.

The assault continues as the man manages to doge every feverous slash that comes his way...until he slips on a loose stone and momentarily loses his balance...

'_The Thief King seizes this opportunity and swings his sword once more, this time, he connects with the man's arm and his blade leaves a deep gash. Both men pause momentarily, staring at each other. Bakura seems quite pleased with himself as he watches the blood oozing down the man's arm and over the silver dragon as his arm falls limply to his side. _

_Abruptly, something about the man changes. Nothing visibly, yet something very definite. His whole character seems to shift from defensive, to offensive. _

_Bakura has very undeniably noticed the change as well and looks at the man in an uncertain manner. At that moment, the man pounces forward slicing at him with both his swords having no trouble landing every blow he makes towards his foe. _

_Cuts and gashes appear on The Thief King's cheek, arms and torso as he stagger backwards – sending pieces of cloth flying in every direction. Bakura is thrashed at relentlessly and he is very obviously losing his edge and beginning to tire. His chest is rapidly moving up and down as he struggles to get a chance to breathe while flinging his sword and body around trying to miss the man's blades. He skids backwards away from the cloaked man in order to regain control of his now shaking body. Drops of sweat roll down his slim strapping frame and he is slightly steaming from being so hot in the unpleasantly cold air. _

_The man steps in front of him and seems ready to deliver the final blow when a menacing grin skulks across Bakura's face._

_How strange...does he find the idea of dying pleasant? At this instant, a hand grabs hold of my broken arm and a very sharp blade is pressed to the front of my neck. _

_I have become so engrossed in the fight between Bakura and the man, that I did not notice Marik sneaking up from behind me. I am no longer puzzled by the Thief King's smirk. Obviously he has seen his companion slinking towards me. _

_Marik yells at the man with a triumphant voice.' _

"Throw down your weapons or the Pharaoh dies!"

'_The man solidifies in his tracks – seemly startled at the sudden engagement of a third party. He turns around at the commotion and sees what has happened. He stares at Marik...motionless.' _

"What are you waiting for? Do you want me to decapitate him right here? Do not test me filth, I will not waver. Throw your blades down at my feet!"

'_With this he twists my arm and drags the point of his sword down my neck making quite a painful cut causing me to groan in pain. The man stiffens and throws his blades to the sand inches from Marik and myself...they are still soaked with blood..._

_The moment his blades hit the ground; Bakura advances towards him and Marik loosens his grip on me. The Thief King shoves his blade around the man's neck from behind and wraps his other arm around the his chest with immense vigour trying to snap his ribs. _

_As he does so, his eyes widen with shock and his pupils contract._

_I stare at him, uncomprehending the sudden surprise...that is...until I look down. The man has shoved one of his shuriken knives into Bakura's thigh the moment Marik loosened the swords grip at my throat. With a flash the man slips down out of Bakura's grasp and picks up a rock at his feet, slinging it towards Marik and hitting him right between the eyes with immense potency. The grip around my arm fades away and I hear the thud of his sword hitting the sand. With a plop, he sinks down and lands on his back...either dead or unconscious...I don't know which..._

_I look at the man and just as he turns around, he comes nose to nose with Bakura and his psychotic smile. I gasp as I realise the reason for the intense closeness. Bakura has shoved his sword into the man's side. _

_I stare at them – waiting for him to vanish like before only to reappear from somewhere completely unexpected...he doesn't..._

_Bakura laughs like a maniac and pushes forward with force causing the blade to slice even deeper into the body of my liberator. Not a sound escapes his lips, although he doubles over in pain grabbing the crossgaurd of Bakura's sword in an attempt to stop him from pushing the blade even deeper into his body. After a moment; he arches his back and in the same instant brings up his leg and kicks Bakura in the chest forcing him backwards and as the Thief falls, he pulls the sword out with him. My redeemer stumbles backwards, still doubled over, clutching his side in pain. I can hear him gasping for breath and I can see blood pouring from the wound. He tilts his head in Bakura's direction to see him recovering from the blow – also wheezing as his wind has evidently been knocked out. _

_In response to the Thief's quick recovery, the man rips his cloak up even further and ties a strip very tightly around his waist._

_He snaps his head in my direction and I am suddenly drowned in guilt for making no attempt what so ever in helping the man who, not only saved my life, but also put his own on the line to keep it that way. He staggers towards me to retrieve his swords from the sand at my feet._

_As he approaches, all I can manage to stammer out is "_I...I...I am so...so...sorry..."_ He stops dead in front of me and looks me square in the eyes. For the first time since he made his appearance, I have a glimpse of his features. The bottom half of his face is covered with a skin tight black shirt that he seems to be wearing underneath his loose fitting clothes. His cloak still covers his head so all I can really see is a pair of electric cerulean eyes. He nods once and then bends down to pick up his swords to face Bakura once more and sinks down into a hostile fighting position.'_

Bakura gets up slowly looking at the man with scepticism and worry in his eyes. He has never been beaten in a fight before...and that is a mortifying wound...how can he still be alive let alone standing and ready to fight?...His eyes suddenly fall upon Marik's motionless body. The realization on his face clear..._'not good'_...


	5. Chapter 5

The deserts' shadow – Part 5

**The Ruse**

Recap (Atems' POV): Bakura gets up slowly looking at the man with scepticism and worry in his eyes. He has never been beaten in a fight before...and that is a mortifying wound...how can he still be alive let alone standing and ready to fight?...His eyes suddenly fall upon Mariks' motionless body. The realization on his face clear..._'not good'_...

'_He starts to retreat, walking backwards, throwing a disgusted and angry look at the man in front of me. He comes to a stop behind the line that was drawn in the sand earlier. All his men have fled the scene by now._

_The man before me straightens up and lets his arms fall to his sides but keeps his eyes on the enemy. After a minute or so, he seems to accept Bakura's silent gesture of defeat and a very sharp, very loud whistle escaped his lips. He clenches his fists tightly around his swords' hilts and then curves his arm backwards to sheath them in the scabbard across his back slowly. Far in the distance, I can hear hoof beats; becoming ever louder. Soon I look up the dune Marik and I had tumbled down earlier to see a pitch black stallion crashing down towards us. He rears as he nears us and with a snort, jogs towards his master. It was an incredible beast – at least two feet taller than the biggest horse I have ever seen. He was very muscular, which means a lot of power, but at the same time slender, which accounts for speed...truly astonishing... As it nears us, I have a look at the various items strapped down on the horse's back and saddle. There is a double-curved bow with a quiver full of arrows. There are numerous camel-skin water bags and a few scabbards with knives and other shuriken in them. There is also a woven bag with some black material hanging out of it._

_I feel a brush of air against my skin as the man passes me. He walks towards the sack and pulls out another cloak which he hands to me and I suddenly realise just how cold I am...actually; I am sort of blue... I wrap my exposed upper body in the mantle, shivering, and cast my eyes on the man once again._

_He has to take a run-up to be able to mount the horse and gives a few paces back to do so. He sprints towards it. Jumps gracefully. Slides his foot into the stirrup. Pushes himself up and neatly swings his leg onto the charger settling behind the saddle. When he is firmly situated on top, he extends his arm towards me. I grab it and he pulls me onto the enormous beast and into the saddle with ease...how could he have so much strength left after such intense combat...and with such a fatal wound? _

_He leans down to my sides from behind me to strap me down in the saddle with leather rope – on account of the fact that I only have one usable arm with which to hold on with - tying my legs to the side of the beast independently. After that he also ties my good arm to the saddle to make sure I don't fall off. He doesn't sit in front of me but instead plants his legs firmly on the steed's powerful back muscles behind the saddle. He whispers a 'Tut - Tut' and the horse takes off into the now starless night. I glance back towards him to see him staring at the spot where Bakura is standing. As we race off into the desert, the Thief King grows ever smaller, and my eyes drop to the figure's feet - agilely balancing his body on the moving creature - to see a steady flow of crimson seeping into the beast's ebony pelt...'_

Bakura's POV

'_I stand astonished in my defeat and stare at the magnificent beast and the man that stole my victory. Marik has come to. I must say I am rather glad he isn't dead. That would have been a great inconvenience. I have no idea where my men have fled to or how many of them are still alive for that matter...if I look at the bodies scattered around me; I'm estimating not many. _

_Marik approaches me clutching his head. He's going to have a headache for a while. I'm surprised his skull isn't cracked – what with the force that guy threw the rock with. He pinches his eyes closed and scrunches up his face as he limps towards me – quite dizzy from the nock – and asks in a strained voice laced with pain.' _

"Now...Ow...What...Ow...? Lost...Pharaoh...Ow...What about...plan...?"

"Hhhmmm. I _know_ that. Idiot. And it's primarily your fault. You should know better than to toy with our prizes so loosely. But that...combatant...I have never encountered someone with such skill...And here he goes carrying off our main spoil.

_Damn_ him. We would be much better off in succeeding with either the amulet or the puzzle and now we have nothing. Damn-it. This will complicate things greatly. But no matter. We shall proceed as planned.

And besides...*evil grin*...I know something our little pharaoh; _doesn't_...."

Atem's POV

'_We ride into the night like a pair of fugitives. Oh the irony. I look up at the sky once more to track down the moon, always finding comfort in gazing at it, only to find that she has fled the disturbingly grotesque scene of slaughter we take flight from. The dark sky seems eerily empty without the glowing eye..._

_A sudden sharp intake of breath from behind me snatches my thoughts away and brings my attention back to the cloaked figure. He has sagged down onto his haunches, his breathing ragged, clutching his side in a futile attempt to slow the bleeding. I am not sure if he can no longer remain upright due to the immense pain he must be in or if the loss of blood is causing him to lose consciousness. Maybe I can get his mind off of it for a while...distract him a little...' _

"Thank you...You saved my life sir, I am in your debt."

'_The man reluctantly turns his head sideways; tearing his eyes from the seemingly invisible threat Bakura and Marik may still pose. He quickly moves his hand to grab hold of his hood and pulls it down very low over his face, before the wind can get a chance to steal it away and reveal his identity, shrouding his countenance in shadow. As best I can gather, he must be casting me a sideways glance. I wait for a response, but seeing as I made a statement rather than ask a question, maybe he doesn't deem it necessary to respond?'_

"Do you know who I am?" I try again.

...Nod.

"Do you know where you are going?"

...Nod.

"Are you taking me back to the palace?"

...Nod.

"Do you know who those men were?"

...Nod.

'_Why is he not steering the horse?'_

Atem frowns slightly. As the Pharaoh, he is not used to being ignored. The stranger in front of him does not seem to be the talkative type either which might mean that the rest of the journey will be spent without conversation. _The rest of the journey..._ Assuming that Ishtar had not led him in circles, which he very highly doubted due to the remote location of their destination, he had ridden _more_ than a few hours into the endless world of sand. That seemed a long, long time to spend in silence at the moment.

In all honesty, the King was feeling more than a little humiliated about his lack of ability to take charge and action earlier. That has never happened before. He has always been a brilliant fighter – never fearful or hesitant in battle and much like the figure, his slight and sinuous frame gave him the advantage of being light on his feet and swift of hand. So what has happened tonight? Why the sudden lack of reaction? Leaving himself so utterly vulnerable and exposed was idiotic, yes, but then standing back like a helpless coward letting a perfect stranger risk his existence to save him? _That_; was disgraceful. It was just this feeling of embarrassment that made the almost awkward silence unbearable to the young Ruler. He had to try again.

"Do you have a name?"

...Nod.

"Will you tell it to me?"

...Silence.

"Where did you come from?"

...Silence.

"By the looks of your armaments, I am assuming you are not of Egyptian origin. Am I correct?"

...Silence.

"Can you _speak_?"

...Silence.

'_Why isn't he answering me? I _can_ trust him...right...?'_

"What exactly are your intentions with me?"

...Silence.

'_...Could he be...'_

The King was growing more and more uneasy with the man's lack of response. He was also growing ever more painfully aware of his tight bonds which left him with no capacity for movement whatsoever. He had made too many mistakes tonight as it is, he could afford to make no more. Was not the first rule of his basic training to trust no-one? And here he was, _letting_ himself be bound by a complete stranger! How could he assume this man was really on his side? What proof does he have?

Granted, the man has risked his life to save him, yes. But what if things were not as they appeared? What if it were merely a ruse to fool him into trusting this strange, hooded figure? What if this man were not taking him back to the palace at all? He admitted himself that he knew who Bakura and Ishtar were did he not?

"Were you following me? Or did you come across me purely by coincidence?"

...Silence.

"If you know who he is; why did you not kill Bakura?" _This_ wasn't really a question but rather an extremely subtle accusation of growing suspicion on the King's part.

...Silence.

"Are you _with_ them?" And _this;_ was an open avowal of distrust.

...Silence.

Atem unconsciously narrows his eyes as he looks at the man with growing concern. This person just went through a great deal of danger and pain to save his life...but was it really that or did he have his own plans for the Pharaoh? The King indistinctly struggles against the leather bonds the man has tied him down with. Surely it had seemed like a good thing at the time - he really couldn't hold onto the horse with only one good arm – but now he wasn't so sure. His eyes move unwillingly from the man's gaze and, to his growing unease, falls upon the numerous shuriken and knives nestled snugly in their bindings around him.

The man moves unexpectedly - while still breathing rather raggedly - and this quickly brings Atem's eyes to him once again. He has knitted his brows together and narrowed his eyes staring at the figure with distaste. The man grabs hold of the side of his cloak facing the young King and pulls it forward – opening it to him and obscuring the Pharaoh's view from his body and actions in the process. With his free hand he reaches to what must be an inside pocket.

Atem tries to slow down his racing heart while never taking his eyes off of the man. Without the figure noticing, he desperately twists his good arm and succeeds in wriggling it free. He moves it back over the steed's moving body, in an attempt to untie the rest of the straps, and starts when it touches something cold. A knife. He gently slides it out of its scabbard and grips the handle tightly causing the skin stretching over his knuckles to go white. The Pharaoh keeps his eyes locked on the man and steadies his breathing. All he has to do now is to wait for the right moment to strike.

The man is still fidgeting with the weapon in his cloak. He has not noticed Atem's hostile gaze scrutinizing him and remains blissfully unaware of the imminent threat. After a moment he stops when he finds what he is looking for. He slowly pulls it out from under his cloak. This is it. The Pharaoh impels the knife upward as fast as a cobra strike. The deadly sharp blade slices through the air as is winds its way to the man's neck. Just as the blade makes contact with the man's throat; the object in his hand is caught in the light of some rogue stars and shimmers brightly; causing the Pharaoh's eyes to widen in shock...


End file.
